


Knowledge: Morning, Noon and Night

by orphan_account



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Drabble, Hobbits, M/M, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-06
Updated: 2008-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three moments summarized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowledge: Morning, Noon and Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "Frodo/Merry Day" while drunk.

These are the things Merry knows on a dreary morning when the window panes are smeared with slosh and the sky is grey and distant:

that firelight can never negate the greyness, though it offers blessed warmth;

that he would much prefer to stay in bed, if it wasn't for the grumbling of his belly, and the fullness of his bladder;

that the floor is cold as ice, and even his hardy hobbit feet miss the bed's warmth;

that it's a comfort when the tea is brewing, and the sandwiches made, when Frodo wraps a shawl around his shoulders;

that it is nice to wake up enough to remember this is Bag End.

\---

These are the things Frodo knows on a bright noon, under sweltering midsummer heat:

that most shade is gone, disappeared under the high sun, and yet indoors the heat seems doubled, and there isn't much more he can decently undress;

that there is a river, blessed cool and inviting, slithering its way through the groves and meadows, only a walk away;

that he misses cool water, needs it;

that he dreads it, the cold embrace of currents that could snatch him away, embrace one moment, strangle the next;

that he will go, because Merry has already come out of the house, and there are towels thrown over his shoulder, and his arm is wrapping around Frodo's waist, easy and free as anything;

that he will not drown, for he will be with Merry, and there's a fate he's suffered that he'd never let come Merry's way.

\---

Together they learn more, on a cool night, under the round ceiling of the fine old smial, between cotton and flesh and breath, drawing unspoken words (devotion, forever) in the creases on the sheets, in sweat, in moonlight.


End file.
